Vengeance (Sequel to We're Looking For A Man Called the Doctor)
by WhouffleGurl.02
Summary: The sequel to my previous SuperWhoLock fic, "We're Looking for a Man called the Doctor". Clara and Sam have forgotten everything that has happened, and the others have all forgotten a bit. The Angels have the phonebox, Cas is keeping a secret, and the fate of everyone's life is in the hands of a weeping angel who has a vendetta against Castiel. Requested.
1. dreams and angels

**So, this is the sequel to We're Looking For a Man Called the Doctor.**

**It's going to have at least five chapters. I haven't finished writing it though, so I'll let you know the definite amount of chapters later.**

**ENJOY :)**

**yes, there will be Destiel in this fic.**

**WG2**

* * *

Clara groaned, the pillow muffling her voice. The TARDIS had been tormenting her with strange dreams all night, such vivid ones that kept her from actually getting any rest, despite the fact that she was sleeping while dreaming. Whenever she woke up, she was completely exhausted.

* * *

_"Hello, Miss Oswald." The taller man spoke, using an american accent. She raised her left eyebrow slightly and looked at the FBI badges the men held out before glancing back up at the men._

_"Hello?" she replied, unsure why she did so. Why were the FBI in England at her door._

_Oh._

_There was only one explanation, and her suspicions were confirmed as the taller one spoke._

_"We're looking for a man called the Doctor."_

* * *

Pulling the covers over her head, she tried to empty her mind of the dreams. They were so vivid, so _detailed_ that they were almost like memories. Of course, the TARDIS was behind this whole thing, so it wasn't a matter of disturbing memories, no, it was a matter of an annoying time machine who had a grudge against her.

Knocking sounded on her door and she clenched her fist, wanting to get up and punch the TimeLord's face. Why couldn't he just talk to the TARDIS about not being so cruel to her? It was getting annoying.

"Go away!" she shouted, "I haven't been sleeping because your stupid_ snogbox_ won't let me sleep!"

* * *

_"What just happened?" she asked. "I was in bed, reading an Amelia Williams' book, and then I'm here with everybody."_

_"The energy from you reading her book must have dragged you along." a man in a trench coat replied._

_"What?" she asked._

_"You have a certain aura around you, you were reading Amelia Williams' book, and so you were dragged along when I brought everyone here to 1938." he explained._

* * *

Clara sighed and hopped out of bed, wincing when her bare feet hit the icy-cold floor. The dreams weren't going to leave her alone, so she might as well go find the sulking Doctor and expain that she hadn't meant to be so rude, that she was just overtired from not getting the rest she needed.

However, when she opened the door, the Doctor was standing there with a dopey grin on his face, and she had to stop herself from giggling as he reached forward and pulled her into a big hug. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into the curve of his shoulder.

They let go, and the Doctor grinned down at her and bopped her nose.

"Good morning, Clara Wara!" he exclaimed. Clara hid her smile.

"You call me that ever again, and I'll burn your bowtie collection, yeah?" she replied. The Doctor looked scared, so she kissed his cheek, giggling at his stupidity. For a man who was over a thousand years, he certainly wasn't that age in his mind.

"What has gotten into you, chinboy?" she laughed when he started to bounce up and down. His smile widened into a toothy grin and she felt a sudden urge to just _kiss_ him. Kiss him like her life depended on it. She could feel her lips and heart dragging her toward him, and her mind and common sense away from him. It was a normal everyday struggle for her, one she felt whenever she was near him.

"It's a beautiful day out in space, Clara! It's your birthday back on earth, too! November 23rd."

"What year are we in?" Clara asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"2014."

"You skipped a year to celebrate my birthday, even though we just celebrated it two weeks ago? In 2013?"

"Of course!" the Doctor replied, his face breaking out in joy, "Saving Gallifrey wasn't what I had planned for your birthday, so I'm giving you a proper holiday."

Clara giggled. "You do know that the birthday I had two weeks ago was the best one I'd ever had? The brilliance that you three versions displayed. It was amazing. I missed seeing the tenth of you, anyway."

"Oy." the Doctor snapped, but Clara could see the amusement in his eyes. She leaned up and hugged him again, kissing his cheek softly. She felt his skin start to flush, and she giggled.

* * *

Dean looked up from his book and looked over at Sam, who was typing into his laptop furiously. Sam didn't remember a thing about last week, and some instances in the past couple of months. Anything related to the Doctor or Clara was completely wiped from his memory, and Dean wondered if he himself was forgetting some things.

He'd asked Cas about it, but the angel couldn't explain it, and he had confirmed Dean's suspicions, that Dean had forgotten some things as well.

So Dean had mentioned a couple of things about the detectives and the Ponds, and the weeping angels, and Sam had just looked at him like he was going off the deep end.

Dean had called Sherlock to see if the detective had forgotten anything. Sherlock said that his and John's memories were fine, but suggested he call the Doctor.

After punching in the numbers into his phone, Dean had called the time machine. Clara had answered, her voice familiar.

"You've reached the TARDIS, Clara Oswald speaking."

"Clara? It's Dean." he gave his name and hoped she remembered him.

"Who?"

His heart had sunk.

"Give the phone to the Doctor, please." he'd requested. He had heard soft voices in the background on the other side of the phone, Clara telling the Doctor that it was_ some guy called Dean._

"Dean? Is that you?" the Doctors voice crackled into Dean's ear, and he had sighed in relief.

"Oh thank the stars it's you, Doctor. Sam can't remember anything, I can remember most of it but not all of it. Cas can't even remember everything. Sherlock and John are fine as far as I know."

"Clara, I think I left my screwdriver in the kitchen." the Doctor was talking to Clara, and Dean waited. "No, when we were attempting to make soufflés. No, she will not send flour dropping over you like last time. Yes, I promise."

Dean waited a few more seconds.

"Dean, Clara can't remember everything. The TARDIS remembers everything, and told me that I've forgotten a few things too."

"So what happened?" Dean asked, hoping the alien would have some answers, because a friggin'_ angel of the lord_ didn't have them.

"I don't know. It might be timelines overlapping that shouldn't have, so the memories slipped away. If that's the case, we'd better stay away from each other until we know more." the Doctor replied, his voice shaky. Dean closed his eyes and nodded before realizing the alien couldn't see him.

"Will do. Goodbye, Doctor."

"Goodbye, Dean."

Dean was broken out of his thoughts when Sam snapped his fingers, making him jump. He glared at Sam.

"The bones are in Battenfield Cemetary. I'll grab the bag, you start the impala."

"No, I'll take care of the bones."

"What?" Sam asked, giving Dean an incredulous look. Dean shrugged.

"Got a lot on my mind, Sammy. I need some time to think without my snot-nosed little brother around. Nothing like digging into a grave and burning bones to help the thinking process, either."

Sam hesitated, but let out a long sigh before closing his laptop and folding his arms.

"Fine."

Dean was out of the bunker and on the road within five minutes.

* * *

There was a very different feeling entering his body than what Sherlock Holmes was ever used to. He smiled down at the tiny newborn in his arms, some instinct making his body rock her back and forth slowly, and she looked up at him with large brown eyes. His heart swelled as she yawned, and he heard Mary coo from where she was laying in the hospital bed. The baby Sherlock was holding was Mary and John's, Mary having just given birth to the baby.

The baby was falling asleep, and Sherlock didn't know what to do, so he glanced up at her parents anxiously. Mary looked worn but overjoyed, and John looked amused.

His phone rang.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and gently handed the baby over to Mary, who soon settled the baby into her arms and cooed softly. John gave Sherlock a_ seriously?_ look, and Sherlock could only shrug as he answered his cell and left the hospital room, going down the corridor to the corner. He turned to the left and brought the phone to his ear.

"Sherlock?" a familiar grating voice on the other end made the detective's eyebrows furrow in confusion. He heard the door to Mary's room open behind him, and John's footsteps sounding behind.

"It's Dean. We have a problem."

"What is it, Dean? I'm busy." he snapped, glancing around to look at John, who was waiting by the door with a we're waiting look on his face.

"Remember the angels?"

Sherlock heard John walk up and saw the former army doctor at his side, giving him a glare.

"Is something with Castiel?" Sherlock asked, keeping his eyes away from John's. No doubt John Watson was giving him an incredulous look.

"Cas is fine. I mean the weeping ones."

Sherlock stiffened and stared ahead, his head subconsciously moving up a bit. He saw John lose his glare in the corner of his eye, and instead look interested at Sherlock's sudden dark demeanor.

"Yeah, well…I'm looking at three of them now. I'd call Sam, but he can't remember anything, so he's sort of _unhelpful_." Dean continued.

"Don't take your eyes off them, Dean. I'll get the Doctor." Sherlock replied quickly, giving his instructions.

"Just…hurry up." Dean said, and Sherlock realized the hunter's voice was shaky from cold, it was shaking from fear. He hung up and turned to John, who was looking concerned now.

"What's wrong with Dean?" he asked.

"He's surrounded by Weeping Angels," Sherlock explained. John's eyes went wide, and he shifted on his feet.

"Better call the Doctor."

Sherlock nodded, already pushing the buttons on his phone.

* * *

Wings sounded behind Dean, and he closed his eyes tightly, ignoring the burn as Cas winged him from the weeping angels to the outside of the bunker. He thanked Cas and almost got lost in the angel's eyes, but shook himself out of it.

"Sherlock's getting ahold of the Doctor."

* * *

**Kind of a short chapter, I know. The next chapters will be longer, I promise. :) Remember to comment and follow if you liked it!**

**3 WG2**


	2. finding the doctor

**Here's the second chapter! It's like seven or eight pages in the program I write in, so hopefully it's long enough here. :)**

**WG2**

* * *

After trying to contact the Doctor, and failing, Sherlock called Dean and was relieved when the hunter picked up. After finding out that Cas had saved Dean, his musing voice had turned on, and Dean had gotten thoughtful as well. However, everyone was still getting sick and tired of the weeping angel problem, so Cas winged Sherlock over to the bunker, scaring the crap out of Sam and making the tall moose-looking guy spill water everywhere.

_"Jeez_, Cas!" Sam snapped, trying to squeeze what water out of his shirt that he could, and looking up to see Sherlock. "Who is this guy?"

Dean walked over from where he'd been sitting and shook hands with Sherlock. They hadn't seen each other for two weeks.

"This is Sherlock Holmes, Sammy. We need him for a case."

"What case?" Sam asked, his voice disbelieving.

The TV behind Sherlock flickered and tuened on, static filling the bunker. Everyone turned and stared at it, it couldn't be a ghost. Ghosts couldn't get into the bunker, and Dean raised his eyebrows when the TV got its crap together and the Doctor popped up on screen.

"To explain, I'm using a trick I've done before when the weeping angels sent me back. I'm letting you know why I can't be contacted at this time. Don't worry, Clara and I'll be showing up soon enough. In a couple of hours, you'll find a notie that tells you where we are and Cas can wing us over. I'm going to tell you right now though, the angels have the phonebox."

The TV flickered out, and everyone stared in silence.

"We don't have any phonebox." Cas' voice was confused, and Dean rolled his eyes, turning and giving the angel a _really?_ look. Cas shrugged.

"He didn't mean you, Castiel." Sherlock waved his hand. He was already sat down in a chair, his elbows on the table and his hands in the position they always where whenever he was thinking-the fingers against his lips. "He's talking about the Weeping Angels."

Cas nodded grimly, and exchanged a glance with Dean.

"Weeping?" Sam asked, giving Cas a look. His eyes moved from Cas to Dean, then to Sherlock. Sherlock nodded.

"Yes! Very fast, very dangerous," Sherlock explained, "The moment they are seen by any living creature, they literally turn to stone."

Dean looked from the detective to his brother, who was looking completely overwhelmed.

"Great. How do we kill them?" Sam sighed.

"We don't have enough information to even know how they breed, the Doctor knows more than any of us. We have to wait." Sherlock answered, making Sam raise his eyebrows. Dean buried his face in his hands and waited for it.

"Okay, who even_ are_ you? What case? Who was that guy on the sceen? Who's Clara? What's he talking about, a _phonebox_?"

There it was.

Dean sighed and sat down in the chair across from his brother, thinking of how to explain it all correctly.

"Okay, so this is going to sound weird, but it's the truth," Dean began, and hesitated, thinking. Sam motioned with his hands to for him to continue.

"Go on."

"Okay," Dean thought for a second more, "This is Sherlock Holmes, the best detective in the universe. His friend John Watson, them and us, we've been on quite a few cases and hunts with then for the past two months."

Sam gave him a look that clearly showed that he though Dean was being an idiot. Again.

"The man on the screen is an alien called the Doctor. He's a TimeLord, and he's over a thousand years old. He's also got some sort of grudge against Cas and God. Clara Oswald is his companion, the girl he takes to show the stars. They were together, but forgot about that. Clara forgot everything like you, so she doesn't even remember the detectives or us."

Sam's face was slowly softening, and Dean's gut told him that his brother knew exactly what he was going to say next.

"You were sent back in time by the weeping angels." Dean continued, and broke off when Sam nodded.

"I've been having strange dreams about this, actually. Dreams so vivid they're almost like memories, but they probably are, considering what you're saying."

Dean furrowed his brows, wondering why Sam had been having dreams about everything that had happened, but his mind had told him that the memories weren't real.

* * *

A few hours passed and Dean walked past the bathroom on the way to the garage, where he kept a fridge full of special beer, the only kind that Sherlock would agree to drink.

Wait a second.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows and took a few steps backward, looking into the barhroom. He couldn't see anything, so he flipped the lights on and saw blood on the mirror, spelling out an address. He sighed.

The blood was running down the mirror slowly, some of it on the counter and on the floor.

Sam was going to have a fit about the mess, and Dean almost felt sorry for the TimeLord as he walked back to the room without Sherlock's beer to inform everyone that the address had been given.

* * *

The sound of leaves rustling woke the Doctor up, and he inhaled deeply. He moved his fingers slowly, digging them into the dirt and leaves underneath them, ignoring the ache in his fingers. He groaned, trying to sit up. He failed and collapsed back onto his chest, the air rushing out of his lungs. The wind whistled around him, moving through the trees. He mustered up the strength and sat up, looking around.

He saw a small heap of skin and fabric and hair on the ground fourteen feet away from him, looking frail and helpless.

_Clara._

The Doctor stood up immediately, collapsing. His legs hadn't gotten their strength back yet, but he soon stood up steadily, tripping over a branch and almost falling on the short walk over to his companion. The moon was shining down through the trees and was lighting up Clara's face. He skidded onto his knees beside her and brought her face to face his face, and made sure she was still breathing.

She was, thank the stars.

He brought her limp body into a hug, breathing in her scent.

Clara stirred within his arms, and he slowly lowered her onto the ground again, careful not to hurt her as her muscles slowly relaxed. Her eyes opened, and he smiled down at her, moving a chunk of her brown hair to the side, stroking her cheek as he did so. She smiled up at him before her eyes flickered away from his face, realizing that they weren't in the TARDIS.

"Where are we?" her voice was hoarse, and she tried to sit up. She groaned, bringing a hand to her clutch at her head. The Doctor held her other hand, trying to offer what comfort he could.

"I don't know. What's the last thing you can remember?" he asked,

"We were in the TARDIS kitchen, weren't we?" she moaned, wincing as a jolt of pain seemed to hit her. "Making soufflés?" her voice sounded so small, so alone that it made the Doctor's heart swell up and his fingers somehow found themselves tracing her jaw, wondering how she could be so beautiful. She sighed. Realizing what he was doing, he dropped his fingers and looked at her face. She seemed content, and was smiling at him, her lips upturned. He smiled down at her and stood up, helping her stand. She leaned onto him heavily, but he didn't mind.

"Doctor," she whispered. He looked at her, alarmed by the fear in her voice. She pointed off into the forest and he followed the direction to see stone statues standing there, hands covering their eyes.

Weeping Angels.

The Doctor felt Clara trembling beside him, and he heard the familiar sound of heavenly wings, grunts and groans following suit. He exchanged a glance with Clara.

"_SHERLOCK_!" that was Dean yelling, his voice ringing throughout the forest. A grunt answered the hunter's shout.

"Doctor!" Sherlock called, and the Doctor took a step forward anxiously.

"Dean! Sherlock!" He yelled out, hugging Clara closer to him. "What are you doing? You need to get away, now! The Weeping Angels are here!"

"We know that, Doc!" Dean shouted back. "Kind of why we're here to rescue you!"

Wings flapped.

"_CAS_!" Dean's shout was one of fury, and the Doctor winced. Cas was either going to pop them all out in a second, or he was going to have some explaining to do later. He almost felt sorry for the angel.

"Dean! Sherlock, where are you?" the Doctor called.

Dean and Sherlock were arguing again, and the Doctor lost his patience, his shouting making Clara wince beside him.

"WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"Keep yelling, Doc! We'll come to you!"

The Doctor heard Clara whimper and he looked at her. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she was staring straight ahead. He turned his head to find that the weeping angel was nearer to them.

"Be careful, there's weeping angels surrounding us!" the Doctor warned.

"NO CRAP, SHERLOCK!" Dean shouted back.

_"WHAT ARE YOU-"_

"It's an _EXPRESSION_, Sherlock!"

The Doctor want to close his eyes and repeatedly slam his head on the trees nearby, but unfortunately that would mean not staring at the angel in front of them. And not staring at the angel in front of them meant they'd be sent back in time, and he might lose Clara.

Wings sounded behind the Doctor and Clara, and before either of them could react, the angel had already zapped them to the bunker and was gone again.

The Doctor groaned and stretched, Clara doing so as well. He caught sight of Sam sitting there, staring at them with wide eyes. Wings flapped behind again, and he turned to see Dean and Sherlock walking away from the angel and towards the alien.

"Jeez, where'd you go, Cas?" Dean asked, holding his side.

"I informed John of the situation and he'll be here in two days' time with Mary and the baby. Then I returned and rescued you all." Cas explained, and the Doctor winced as Sherlock took a step towards the angel threateningly.

"You did_ what_?" Sherlock snapped, giving Cas a cold glare.

The Doctor sighed and turned away from the two of them, and brought Clara into a tight hug. She seemed overwhelmed and clutched him to her, bringing her lips up to his ear.

"I know everyone here," she whispered, "They're from my dreams."

"I had those dreams too." Sam spoke, and the Doctor and Clara broke their hug. Clara looked at Sam for a minute.

"Yeah?" she asked, cocking a brow.

"Yeah." Sam replied, nodding.

"I remember you," she snickered, pointing at him. Sam nodded, his eyes twinkling.

"You told me what to do about the ST in here, remember?" Sam asked. Clara laughed and high-fived him, the Doctor standing there uncertaintly.

"Doctor, do you have any books or anything on your machine that can tell us anything about the Weeping Angels?" Dean asked, bringing the Doctor back to reality. The Doctor turned and thought for a moment, fingers picking at the skin on his lips.

"I do have I large library in there, maybe there's something there." he mused, and Clara snickered.

"It's freaking huge, Doctor." she said, and Dean almost smiled at the use of the word_ freaking_. It didn't seem very british to do, but maybe Sam had rubbed off on her last time.

"It's not _that_ big," the Doctor replied back, his eyes wide.

"It's bigger than the school I teach at." Clara stepped towards the alien and poked him as she spoke, "It's bigger than the earth. It's bigger than the universe. It's bigger than-"

"Okay. I _know_ it's not that big." the Doctor interrupted, giving Clara a glare. She broke off giggling.

* * *

Dean stared up and around the library as they walked inside the room.

The Doctor shrugged.

"Okay, so maybe it _is _that big."

Clara and Sam exchanged an exasperated glance before heading off together to the left. Dean went to the bookshelves on the right. The Doctor went upstairs one flight, Sherlock went up two, and Cas went up three.

Dean walked through shelves, keeping an eye on book titles. Of course, in order to _do_ that quickly, his head was tilted to the side and he could feel a neck crick coming on that would absolutely kill him later.

Which Cas could probably heal, so Dean kept his head tilted.

* * *

Sam ran his fingers over the old leather books as he walked down the space between bookshelves slowly, looking at the book titles carefully. Clara was behind him, looking at the books on the opposite side of the isle. The shelves were high, and so was he, but Clara was over a foot shorter than him, so she checked the books from the fifth shelf down and he checked from the sixth on up.

"What do you remember?" Clara's soft question broke throught the silence, and Sam closed his eyes, running through the dreams in his mind as quickly as he could.

"I remember…coming to your door and Sherlock not believing in Cas. I remember that Cas almost killed the Doctor, but they have an uneasy sort of agreement now because he saved you, and that you and me had a couple of talks about Dean and Cas."

"We need a code name for that," Clara decided. Sam raised his eyebrows and turned to give the short brunette a look.

"What?"

"So we can talk about it while they're in the room. Cas is an angel, so I assume he'll still be able to hear us if we just whisper."

"Yeah, so?"

"Cean?"

"Absolutely not," Sam shuddered at the word, then thought. His fingers tapped his chin lightly. "Trench-trunk?" he offered.

"'Cause of the trench coat and the impala?" Clara asked.

"Yeah."

"Too obvious. How about….Destiel?"

"Destiel?" Sam echoed.

"Dean and Castiel. Destiel." Clara explained, nodding her head and grinning. Sam nodded. He liked it.

"I've found something!" Dean's shout interrupted the overall silence of the library and startled both Sam and Clara. They exchanged a glance before running over to where Dean's voice had come from. They found the hunter standing there, along with Cas, who was looking over Dean's shoulder at the book Dean was flipping through.

"How to kill a Weeping Angel," Dean read, the pages open to within the last half of the book.

"Great! How do we do it?" Clara asked, excitement obvious on her facial features. Sam grinned at her childishness.

"It says we need water from the wooden cross, and a bunch of other religious crap," Dean read out, then dug his finger into the page, frowning frustratedly.

"Water from the wooden cross?" Sam echoed.

"I believe soaking an old wooden cross from a church would do." Cas offered, and Sam and Clara exchanged a knowing glance when Dean stared at Cas like the angel was the single most knowledgable and amazing being in the whole of the universe.

* * *

**the next chapter might take a couple of days, this chapter alone took half of what I've written. I have to write a lot more before I can update regularly, so hang in there. :) remember to follow and review if you like it enough for it to continue!**


	3. castiel and the wooden cross

**A/N**

**I am so super duper sorry about this very, very late update. In return, here's chapters three and four mashed together. There will be a chapter five, whether or not it is the last is for me to know and for you to not know. ;) **

**WG2**

"This is absurd," Dean complained, pulling at his collar. He was dressed in a suit, putting in a white neck collar, dressing as a Father of the church. Sam was in the same attire, but he didn't seem bothered by it. Dean didn't know his his brother wasn't bothered, his neck was itchy and hot, and he felt like he was choking.

"Any better ideas?" Sam snapped.

"Dean, if you want to find the cross, you have to be inconspicuous." Sherlock broke into the brothers' argument, and Dean furrowed his eyebrows. _Dammit. Why do these people have to use these kind of words?_

"Yeah, like this is very incos…inconsi..in," Dean trailed off, trying to figure out how to say the word. His face was flushing, and Clara stared at him with pity in her eyes. _Fucking english teacher._

"Inconspicuous, Dean," the Doctor repeated the word with ease, giving Dean a sarcastic look, if sarcastic looks were a thing. "You sure are a joy to be around."

Dean saw Clara shoot the Doctor a sharp glare, and he was grateful. The subtext in the alien's words were all too obvious.

"Can you-" Cas sighed, shifting uncomfortably in his suit, "-please, take it seriously and explain why I am involved in this particular event?"

Dean got a smirk on his face while he gazed at the angel and Clara exchanged a glance with Sam. Clara mouthed Destiel, and Sam nodded, grinning widely.

"Because, Cas, we need someone to look pretty while we search the place for the cross," Dean gave Cas a wink and the angel looked away moodily. Clara grinned and turned to see John, who had arrived with his wife and daughter last night, lean forward onto a chair and chuckle. His face had that look of _I see exactly what you two are thinking and doing and I'm going to tease you two about it_, the look a friend gives another friend when a particular friend is talking to their crush. Clara hid her sudden giggle and made a mental note to include John in the Destiel Code.

"Clara, are you coming?" Sam asked, breaking into her thoughts. She turned and gave him a look.

"Of course I am, Sam."

"You're not dressed," Sam replied, gesturing to her simple sweater shirt and long skirt. Clara cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm modest, aren't I? I'm pretending to be Cas's wife, and I'm going to charm the very _pants_ off the people at the church."

"Fathers don't marry," Cas replied, looking at her like the knowledge was common. Clara'd been religious growing up, going to Sunday school, but she'd gone to a completely different church.

"Fine," she sighed, "I'll go get into my nun costume." she frowned and stomped out of the room, feeling like a rebuked nine-year old. She hated the idea of dressing like a nun, all that cloth covering her from head to toe.

_Ugh._

The impala drove up the driveway and parked just outside of the old brick church. Climbing out of the backseat, Clara looked up at the spire erupting from the church, seemingly touching the sky. For such an old building, it was actually quite high.

Cas came around the car and touched her shoulder, signaling that they should probably go inside. Clara looked down and saw that Sam and Dean were already at the doors, motioning for them to hurry up. Exchanging a glance with the angel, she ran up to where the brothers stood.

Dean opened the door and they went inside. The church was empty, all its pews untouched. There was a man kneeling at an altar, though, dressed in the uniform of a priest. Clara heard the door to the church click closed behind them, and the man looked around, startled at the sudden sound. He caught sight of them.

"Fathers, Sister." he acknowledged with a smile, standing up and walking over. Clara smiled at him as he neared, and he smiled back, outstretching his hand to her friend. She shook his hand, and everyone took turns shaking the man's hand.

"I'm Father Winchester," Dean introduced, pointing to whosever name he was speaking, "That's Father Campbell, Father Novak, and Sister Oswald."

"I'm Father Bates. How can I help you?" the man replied.

"We're on transference from a church in Maine to a church in California. My brother is there, and is dying. I requested to be transferred, so I could see him before he died," Clara lied, the words falling easily from her mouth, "Father Novak and Campbell are also being transferred, but permanently, and Father Winchester is overseeing our trip to California." she explained. Father Bates nodded, and Cas said some religious thing that interested Father Bates deeply, so Clara took a few steps backward and then hurried over to the side of the church, Dean doing the same on the other side. She scanned the walls and seats and everything, looking for the wooden cross. When asked what it looked like, Cas had told them that you'll know it when you see it, so she really didn't know what she was looking for.

When Clara gave up, she turned and saw Dean turning around on the other side of the church and waving a weather-worn five-inch wooden cross in the air. She saw it and nodded, motioning with her hands that they should return to Cas, Sam, and Father Bates. They did so quietly and so smoothly that nobody noticed that they came back, or had even left. Dean had secretly handed the cross to Clara, who excused herself to the bathroom and had tucked the cross into the flat, secret bag she had on under the many layers of clothing.

She came back out and they bid their goodbyes to Father Bates, thanking him for letting them come in and chat for a few minutes.

Dean started the impala and revved up the engine, making them shoot down the countryside road, to fulfill the four-hour trip back to the bunker. After the church was well out of sight and nobody was around, it was just all cropfields, Clara tore off the outer layers, leaving on the long white gown that the bag was over. She opened the bag and took the cross out carefully, feeling a jolt of some sort of power as the wood scraped against her fingers. She stared at it, mesmerized, but Cas took it out of her palm and examined it himself. Shaking herself from the trance, Clara rolled the extra clothes she'd had on before into a big black lump and tucked it beneath her feet. She tucked the edges of the simple white dress under her thighs, allowing the sun to leak through the window and onto her skin, relishing the warmth it gave.

Looking over to where Cas was sitting, next to her in the backseat, he was looking out the window with the cross loosely in his hands.

"Is it the cross?" she asked, "Will it work?"

Cas nodded, looking back down at the wooden cross. "It's the cross we need. I have no doubt it will work."

So with happy hearts, the four of them endured the drive back to the bunker.

Sherlock stood by the baby's cradle, his finger being held onto by the little girl's tiny fingers. He smiled as the baby cooed, looking up at him. Mary was sitting next to the cradle in a comfy rocking chair, drinking tea and reading a book she'd found in the library downstairs. From what Sherlock could see, it was a book about Wraiths.

"She likes you," Mary said, her voice interrupting Sherlock's thoughts. The smile on his face grew a little, lighting up his face. He glanced at Mary, who was looking at her baby with fondness.

"She's beautiful." Sherlock replied, the only words he knew to describe the miracle that was this baby. He could almost hear Mary smile as she took a sip from her tea.

"You ever thought about settling down, Sherlock?" Mary asked, her question making Sherlock furrow his brows. "Marry someone, have a kid?"

He thought for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"Sometimes," he sighed, deciding to be honest, since the former assassin could always tell when he was fibbing. Maybe the skill came from being a killer, but perhaps she had always been able to do it. He could never fully read her, so there were still many things he didn't know about John's wife.

"What stopped you?"

"Life." his answer was quite and simple, and he was grateful when Mary didn't pressure him for more information. She seemed to always know when to stop talking or quit asking questions, she always knew when he was thinking. Perhaps they were more alike than he realized.

Sherlock stood there for a while more, letting the baby play with his fingers as she slowly fell asleep. Once the baby's breath was slower, and he knew she was asleep, he gently pried her fingers off of his and smiled down at her before turning around.

The Doctor chose that minute of absolute peace and contentment to rush into the room and shout, holding up the book Dean had found on the Weeping Angels.

The baby woke immediately and started to cry. Sherlock fixed the Doctor with a dark glare and started to walk towards the alien threateningly, making the TimeLord step back and raise his hands. Mary got up and picked up her baby, shushing and cooing to her.

Sherlock took ahold of the Doctor's shoulder and gripped it tightly, marching the much-older man down the hallway until they were out of Mary and the baby's earshot.

"I'm sorry, I really am." the Doctor said, turning around after Sherlock had let go of him to give the detective an apologetic look." I know how hard it is to get babies to sleep, I've been a father before. Trust me though, it's much harder to get a TimeLord baby to sleep than a human one."

Sherlock gave the Doctor a glare, and the TimeLord sighed.

"Sorry, Sherlock. I am. But that isn't important right now, no, look at this," the Doctor held out the book when Sherlock took another step toward the Doctor. Giving the alien a confused glance, he took the book and looked down at the tiny nook in the book where the Doctor had pointed. He started to read.

Weeping Angels are the remnant of an angel's grace when an angel dies. The grace inhabits a stone statue, and controls it. An angel's grace cannot be witness by humans, therefore it automatically freezes the angel in place when human eyes set their gaze upon them.

Sherlock felt his eyebrows climb up a bit.

"This seems like something that Castiel would know," he remarked, looking up at the Doctor. The alien nodded fervently, his eyes showing the distrust he held for the angel.

"It does, doesn't it? I'm thinking the angel isn't telling us everything he knows. He's acting like he doesn't know, and that makes me suspicious." the Doctor replied, waving his hands about as he spoke.

"It doesn't make sense though," Sherlock mused, "He shares a certain bond with Dean. He wouldn't keep something like this from him."

"So maybe he told Dean, and Dean told Cas to keep his mouth shut so we wouldn't think he had a hand in it all. The number of Weeping Angels has multiplied within the last few years, and Samuel told Clara about a war in heaven. Apparently there was something and a massacre occurred, like, thousands of angels died. Millions, perhaps." the Doctor explained his theory on the matter. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows.

"There was a massacre in heaven?"

"Yeah. Clara said that Sam told her that some angel played God part deux and killed a lot of angels in heaven, and massacred some people on earth as well," the Doctor answered.

"How did we miss all of that?" Sherlock asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, "How could I possibly miss all of that? Apparently the apocalypse is supposed to have happened as well, but when? Nothing makes sense."

"I find that things rarely make sense," the Doctor said.

"Maybe the Weeping Angels can erase memories." a third voice came into the mix, and the alien and detective turned to see Mary standing there, the baby on her hip. The Doctor frowned. Something about Mary Morston-Watson seemed very off to him, and made him wary of the woman.

Sherlock frowned at Mary's suggestion.

"What?" he asked, wondering what she was implying.

"Well, think about it," Mary began, "You told me that Sam and Clara lost their memories, yeah? But they came back as dreams." Sherlock nodded, encouraging her to go on. "Well then, maybe, these particular brand of angels can erase memories. If the government can do it, then some dead angels should be able to do it, no problem."

The Doctor furrowed his brows.

"You're taking the whole supernatural-extraterrestrial situation kind of well for it to be normal," he said, giving her a strange look full of distrust.

"I've seen things much stranger," she replied. Her eyes were mischievous, and it unsettled the Doctor.

"Who even are you?" he quried, fighting the urge to step back and run away from this strange woman. She was giving him more creeps than River had when he'd first met the curly-haired woman, back at the library.

"John's wife," she answered, "Mary Mortson. Oh, and this is my baby." she nodded toward the perked-up infant on her waist, who was looking around with curious blue eyes.

The Doctor was silent, but the thought of her kept bugging him.

The impala pulled up to the door of the bunker, and the sound of her doors opening and closing filled the air. Dean had already taken the white collar out of the collar of his suit and had tossed it out the window during the drive back. Clara had gotten tired of the bunched up fabric under her thighs, so she'd ripped off most of the lower half of the thin white dress, so it only reached her mid-thighs. She'd also torn off the sleeves, so her arms were soaking in the warmth from the sun.

Sam and Cas however, had endured their outfits the whole ride.

The way back home had been mostly silent, with Cas looking out the window, Dean keeping his eyes on the road except for a few times where he looked in the rearview mirror at Cas, at which times Sam and Clara exchanged knowing glances. Mostly though, Sam and Clara had been looking out their own respective windows, and halfway back Clara had gotten enough of the hot air, so she'd rolled down the window and let air rush through.

The four of them walked into the bunker, closing the door behind them. Cas was holding onto the cross still. Clara looked over the railing and saw the Doctor sitting in the library-ish area, on the floor next to a bookshelf. He looked up as he heard them walking down the stairs. Sherlock and John were sitting at the table next to each other, muttering and pointing into a book. Mary was across the table, holding the baby and reading a book that had the word Wraith written in gold across the cover.

"We got the cross," Dean remarked, pointing behind him to Cas, who held up the cross to show everybody.

"It's very small," Mary said, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the wooden cross. Sherlock nodded, agreeing with his best friend's wife's opinion on the thing.

"It is, isn't it?" Dean sighed, glancing at the cross. Cas handed it to Dean, and the hunter tucked it into his suit pocket, walking down the rest of the stairs. Clara was already downstairs and halfway over to the Doctor.

"Find anything else out about the W.A.'s?" Sam asked the Doctor, and Clara looked at the alien as she drew nearer and sat down beside him, hoping he had good news.

"Yeah, actually," the alien's voice was hesitant, and he held up the book that Dean had found, "There's some interesting stuff in here. Right, Cas?"

Clara furrowed her eyebrows and looked at the Doctor before looking at Cas. The angel was giving the Doctor a long look, and Clara bit her lip.

Something was wrong here.

"What's he talking about, Cas?" Dean asked.

Her eyes widened, and she stared at the angel. Cas? Was Cas the one who had played God Part Deux, and massacred millions in both heaven and earth? No, it couldn't be.

"I don't know." Cas replied, his voice even and smooth. His eyes tore from the Doctor's and swiveled to Dean's, and the two held each other's gaze for a minute.

Cas winced and let out a shout, his hands clutching at his head.

"Cas, what's wrong?" the worry in Dean's voice was raw, and Clara watched as the hunter started to run over, but Cas motioned for him to stay away. Dean stood there, a look of helplessness on his face.

"Just a particularly loud signal on the angel frequencies," Cas rasped, "I have to go."

"Cas, wait!" Dean leapt forward, but his hands went through where Cas had just been standing a second before.

The angel was gone.

Cas collapsed to the ground as he landed, gasping for breath. Looking around, he found that he had landed in a dark, abandoned warehouse. Thinking for a minute, he realized he was only an hour away from the bunker. Groaning, the angel stood up and held onto the wall beside him, waiting patiently for whoever had summoned him there.

Everyone was sitting at the table with the exception of Mary, who had excused herself to go put the sleeping baby down in her cradle.

"So…Cas knew about all of this?" Sam asked. Dean closed his eyes and turned his head away, making Clara feel bad for the hunter.

"It's more than likely," Sherlock answered with a nod. Dean shook his head, sighing.

"Cas is more trouble than he is good."

Sam's head snapped to face Dean's self-pitying lump and Clara hid a smile of fondness for the younger Winchester.

"Don't say that, Dean.

"It's true, Sam." Dean's eyes opened and his head swiveled to face Sam. Dean's eyes were going glassy, and Clara reached over to put a hand on Sam's, trying to reassure the brother. The memory of Sam telling her about an angel massacring millions in heaven and on earth repeated over and over in her mind, and she had to provide what comfort she could to the man who had actually been there to see it happen.

The Doctor reached across the table and handed the book to Dean silently, giving the hunter a small _I'm sorry_ smile. Dean sighed and took the book, opening it to a random page and reading out from it. It wasn't a random page though, since the bookmark in the page had made that one open up the easiest.

"Weeping Angels to angels are as vengeful spirits to humans," he read, and Clara closed her eyes, dread filling her stomach.

"That means they can kill angels," the Doctor explained, his voice quiet and apologetic. Dean's eyes snapped from the book to the Doctor's eyes, widening in the process.

"We've been bugged by the W.A.'s quite a lot lately, you don't think they're after Cas, do you?" Sam asked. The Doctor looked from Dean to Sam and nodded slowly.

"I think they're after him. They were probably going over you and Dean because they've observed Cas hanging around you two, so they figured that Cas must care about you. That would explain them attacking Sherlock and John as well, having probably seen them going on cases with you all. Clara and I were in the forest full of angels that time, with you two and Sherlock, so they must know that Cas has met us before as well."

"That means they've been keeping an eye on my house, then," Clara mused, her eyes going wide with horror. Those evil statues had been watching the Maitland's house, and she hadn't even known it? The Doctor nodded.

"Mary came up with a theory about Sam and Clara losing their memories as well," he began, but footsteps in the room announced Mary's arrival.

"No, alien-boy. My theory, mine to share." Mary broke into the Doctor's words, and the alien nodded, letting the woman talk. After explaining her theory on the angels being able to erase memories, Dean nodded.

"It makes sense," he admitted, and Sam nodded to Dean's words.

"But if it wants Cas…" Dean's voice trailed off, his eyes looking lost and a little scared, looking off into the distance.

"Great," Sam sighed. "A dead angel with a vendetta against Cas." He shared a knowing look with Clara, and she felt her heart begin to sink. There could be thousands or millions of weeping angels out on the hunt for Cas, because of what je did. She looked at the Doctor and Sherlock, who were sharing suspicious glances. Mary looked calm, and John was observing everyone's reactions like Clara was doing, but his eyes showed a little more interest than Clara could even muster up at the moment.

Cas looked up from where he stood when the lights above him started to flicker. Looking around, anxiety clawing at his nerves, he saw a dreadful stone statue across the room, coming closer when the lights were off. He took a couple of steps back, giving the statue a pained look.

As it came closer, he let his angel blade slip out of his sleeve and into his hand, tossing it up into the air and catching the handle of it with skillful fingers.

"Please don't do this," he pleaded, stepping back again as the angel statue crawled nearer.

It didn't listen, and as it came nearer to him, he winced when he recognized the grace inside. It was one of his sisters' grace, one he had cherished while he was still a young infant. He had killed her because she'd chosen Raphael over him, and the agony of that choice ripped at his heart.

She came closer until her face was almost against his.

Letting out a cry of pain, Cas forced the angel blade into the statue and felt the earth rumbling as he did it. The statue shattered into a million different pieces of stone, the grace shattered and making the individual pieces of the statue glow faintly in the darkness. He stood there for a minute, feeling defeated.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Clara jumped as wings sounded and Cas stumbled. She turned and stared at him, the angel was standing there with red eyes and a terrible look of pain and defeat showing on his facial features. Dean's chair scraped against the floor and the hunter rushed over to the angel, wrapping one of Cas's arms around his shoulder and helping the angel over to a chair. Cas sat down heavily, staring at nothing.

"Cas, what's wrong?" Dean asked, his voice full of fear.

"I killed a weeping angel," the angel whispered quietly, and Clara closed her eyes tightly, hoping that Cas wouldn't explain that he had been God part deux. She opened her eyes again and exchanged a glance with Sam.

"Cas," Dean broke off, squeezing the angel's shoulder in reassurance.

"You killed a weeping angel?" John asked, his voice curious.

"More like shattered the statue and suspended the grace," Cas explained, broken out of the trance he'd seemed to be in, "The grace will pull itself together soon though, repairing itself and the statue at the same time."

"You knew what the weeping angels were didn't you, Cas?" Sam asked, his voice quiet. Clara looked at the angel, who sighed.

"Yes, I did." the answer seemed to shock Dean a little for some odd reason, making him let go of the angel's shoulder.

"Why didn't you just tell us, Cas?" he asked, his voice rough.

"I'm sorry, Dean. It's the sort of information one doesn't share lightly," the angel replied, voice hard and cold. Dean and Cas held each other's gaze coolly for a minute until Dean broke it and scoffed, walking off to the side a bit.

"Dean, lay off him. He just had to stab one of his dead siblings." Clara snapped, anger filling her. Dean turned around and gave her a glare. She gave him her best one, the one she gave Angie when the teenager was being extremely rude and/or disrespectful to her father. It seemed to work, as he looked away. Clara sat back into her chair and felt the Doctor's eyes on her. He knew she was hiding something from him, but she wouldn't tell him. He already had enough against Castiel, she wasn't going to give him any more to use against the angel. Once she might have told him, because if he had misbehaved against the angel then, she would've reminded him of what he had done to his own people. Now, since they had saved Gallifrey and it turned out that the Doctor hadn't killed anyone, she couldn't tell him.

Of course, she should be able to tell him without fearing that he would use the information against anyone. It was just a testament to how much the alien had changed after meeting Castiel.

**I hope that was sufficient.**


	4. dean and clara

**Here is the actual final chapter. I threw a fit last night because fanfiction dot net wasn't working with me, so I got frustrated lol. Hope you enjoy!**

**WG2**

"NO!" Clara screeched, jumping forward. Dean caught her, holding her by her stomach as she continued screaming, tears streaming and curses flung into the air. "DOCTOR!"

Sam and John shared a sad look while Sherlock slowly stepped up to the edge of the building and looked over the edge at the two broken bodies far down on the ground.

"Clara, please," Dean grunted, still struggling to hold her back. Clara stopped fighting, going limp. But when Dean loosened his grip she tore out of it and ran to the edge, falling onto her knees before glancing over. Her hair covered her face from the other's views, but the despair in her body movements was obvious.

"Doctor, what did you do?" She whispered, hands trembling as she looked up to the stars.

It was too late. No good outcome was possible now, but there was never any chance of winning. Castiel knew that, and he knew that deep deep down, so did Dean and the others. But now there was no denying it, and the absolute and utter dread was showing on their pale faces. Clara was clutching the Doctor's sleeve with one hand and held onto Sam with the other, Sam looked hopeless, and Dean was in the corner, leaning into the wall. Sherlock, John, Mary, and their baby were huddled together at the table.

"Is there no other way?" Dean asked, outrage apparent in his gruff voice. Castiel sighed inwardly, nodding before realizing nobody was looking at him.

"No. Either I give myself up, or the weeping angels continue hunting us and eventually kill one or more of you. They are relentless and can't be killed, even by I. I will not let you suffer."

"I'll suffer if you're dead!" Dean shouted, whirling around and glaring at Cas. A flash of panic rushed through his eyes before he continued. "Sam will suffer! Hell, even the Doctor will suffer." He finished weakly, and Castiel felt his heart breaking. It was too late to confess love, it was too late. Now it would just be for nothing, and it would just make them angry at each other in Castiel's last minutes.

"Castiel, when are you planning to finish this, then?" Sherlock asked, emotionless. Cas knew the only people that man cared about were within his arms, John and Mary and the baby.

Clara shot Sherlock a sharp look.

Castiel straightened his coat a little before replying. "Now."

"At least let me come with you," Dean pleaded suddenly, and Cas looked at him sadly. Too late, Dean. It was too late. "I will not risk your life while trying to save it," he responded. Before letting anyone else talk, he transported himself to a rooftop in the middle of New York City. The town with the most angels.

He stood there. Waiting.

Dean let out a long string of curse words and kicked the wall when Castiel flashed out, and the Doctor started walking toward the front door, dragging Clara along.

"Doctor, what are you doing?" Clara asked, pulling her wrist out of his grip. "Where are you going?"

"We are leaving." He snapped, eyes darkened. "It's taken care of, everything's fine. We can go."

"I can't leave them, look at them!" Clara hissed, motioning toward the broken brothers and the saddened three with a baby. "Dean's about to break and Sam can't do this alone. Why are you up and leaving? I thought you cared!"

The Doctor smiled sadly. "I do care, and that's why we need to leave." His voice got harder, and so did his eyes. "If we stay here, it isn't going to end well, I've seen it. I'm not doing this to you. I'm not."

Clara furrowed her eyebrows, curling her lip in disgust as she backed away from him. "Are you telling me you knew this was going to happen and you didn't do a damn thing?"

"What could I have done? It's the most logical thing for the angel to do!" The Doctor was motioning wildly, frantic.

"You could have told me!" Clara shouted, turning around and pointing to the Winchesters. "You! Get geared up. We're going to save Castiel."

The Doctor rushed over to her and pulled her around to face him. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"You know something we don't and I'm putting my faith in the theory that you know how to save Castiel!" Clara screeched at him, completely full of rage. "You keep lying to me, keeping secrets from me! Why?! Why?! Tell me!"

"Because I love you and I don't want you to get hurt!" The Doctor screamed back, and despite the shocking statement, which took aback the Winchesters and Holmes-Watsons, Clara was unfazed.

"Well I love you too, you big fucking idiot, but that's no excuse to send someone off to their death! Especially when you can save him!"

"Saving him would mean him running for the rest of his life and my regenerating. I'm not doing it to you."

"What, regenerating? Doctor, I lived and died a hundred billion times, I know you regenerate. I don't care if you do, you'll be you still and you'll have saved someone's life." Clara's voice went soft, and she cupped his cheek. "I'm not going to cry for you, because I know you. You are going to get in your TARDIS and save Castiel. Now."

Clara was curled up against the TARDIS door on the rooftop, tears dried. She knew he survived. There was no way he couldn't. But the shock and surprise had been too much for her on that roof, which had led her to scream and almost jump off the roof herself. She had to remember that she wasn't indestructible. She wasn't immortal. She couldn't regenerate. But he could.

So where was he? Why hadn't he moved?

Sam and Mary were sitting next to her, one on each side. Sam was holding her hands and Mary was holding her close. Clara was grateful for the friendship she had with them, but all she could think of or worry about right now was the Doctor. She only barely heard Sherlock calling her name.

"Clara! Clara!" She lifted her head at the detective's shouting and waited for him to continue. "He's gone."

Clara gasped, and scrambled up, running for the edge, Sam in tow as they hadn't separated their fingers quite yet. Sam had to pull back a little so she wouldn't fall off in her excitement.

"Oh my god," she cried, turning around and hugging Sam, "Oh my god, oh my god, he's gone, he's okay, he's fine, oh my god!" She pulled away and peered over the edge again. The Doctor was gone.

Sam watched by the side as Clara and the Doctor worked the TARDIS, watching his brother standing across the room. He was seemingly calm, but that finger twitching betrayed the anxiety the man was feeling.

He hoped they would get to wherever Castiel was soon enough, it was worrying to see Dean so anxious. An anxious Dean could mean a dangerous Dean. Sam was gonna have to keep an eye on him.

"Ive got a track on him," the Doctor announced, waving everyone over. "I never trusted that two-timing energy sucking winged idiot." Dean and Sam and the others walked over, peering over the Doctor and Clara's shoulders to see the screen. Not that they had to peer much over Clara, the woman was seriously lacking in height.

"It looks like he's on the roof of some corporate building," the Doctor pointed out, and Dean spoke up.

"How did you track him?"

"He's an angel, he emits energy that nobody else on this planet does, so I followed that energy," the Doctor explained, but Clara scoffed.

"Doctor, you put a tracking device in the man's coat the first time you met him."

The Doctor looked sheepish but didn't deny it, refusing to look at Dean, who was glaring at the timelord with the rage of a thousand suns.

"Anyway…hold on!" He shouted, and Sam was thrown back onto his ass, groaning at the harsheness of the TARDIS flinging itself throughout time and space.

The TARDIS appeared on the roof, and Castiel groaned, but couldn't turn around to see it. The weeping angels were there, and he was about to talk to them.

That is, until the TARDIS appeared. Then he had to wait.

He heard the door open behind him, that creaking was familiar now. So were the footsteps that came toward him, and the hand set on his shoulder. He almost cried at the touch. He never thought he'd feel Dean's grip again. But he got angry as well, he was sacrificing himself for Dean's safety, so what was that obtuse hunter doing here?

"Castiel, please," the man's voice was rough and raspy. "Don't do this. We can figure it out."

"There's no other way. We found nothing, Dean. Nothing will stop or kill these relentless monsters. We went everywhere in the universe, looked at all the books. Nothing will stop them."

"But we can survive," Dean pressed, despair and sadness evident in his voice. "You and me, we can-"

"NO." Castiel shouted, trying to shut Dean up. It wasn't worth it. He was about to sacrifice himself, Dean confessing his love for him would even make it worse, more tragic.

"You need to let me say this, even if I can't save you, I can't regret not saying this for the rest of my goddamn life!" Dean shouted right back, and Cas felt the hunter's grip on his shoulder tighten.

"Fine." Cas gave a little bit, but kept his eyes open and staring at the weeping angels in front of him, and he knew that Dean was as well.

"Cas, I uh. I can't let you do this. I just can't, I…I love you Cas."

Cas felt tears well up in his eyes, but he let his eyes burn instead of closing them. He couldn't close his eyes. He couldn't.

The TARDIS door opened behind them and Cas found himself turned around unexpectedly and Dean pressed his mouth to his. Cas was worried about the angels, but god, they hadn't gotten to him yet so obviously someone was watching them. Which meant he could relish in the kiss and the embrace of the man he loved.

Clara raced back into the TARDIS and used her slight knowledge of the controls to use the locating sensing the ship had. "Show me where the Doctor is," she commanded, putting the TARDIS screens into location mode.

"The Doctor is located." The ship announced, and Clara did what she knew to start the ship toward the Doctor, but thankfully the TARDIS helped her along and sooner or later they were dissapearing and reappearing in the middle of arizona, america. Clara raced outside, but stopped short when she found that it was all desert and nobody was around. Her heart broke a little bit, and the thought of what if the doctor is actually dead? Crossed her mind but she pushed it away and turned when she heard Sam's soft apology sounding behind her.

"It's okay," she smiled up at him, brushing nonexistant tears away with her fingers. "I know he's alive at least, and I have the TARDIS. He will come back to me."

Sam opened his arms, offering her a hug, and she accepted, sinking into his comforting embrace. She was grateful for his support, his friendship. He'd been there for her these past few months when even the Doctor hadn't been.

"We'll find him, I promise." he whispered into her soft brown hair.

Dean was trembling on the roof, Sherlock was still there, but Sam and Clara had run off to find the Doctor, who had dissapeared. But Cas hadn't. He was on the ground beneath. Why wasnt he moving? He can't die from a simple fall, he was a motherfucking angel.

The hunter turned around and started running down the many flights of stairs to the ground, he had to get to Cas's side. There has to be a way to save him. He practically flew down the stairs and burst out of the door, not caring as the metal door hit his skin hard as he did so. He would probably have a bruise later but hey, his lover was dying, he had more important things to do than worry about a bruise.

Dean fell to his knees at Castiel's side, his heart stopping when he saw the mass amounts of blood coming from the angel's bashed in head. "God, how is this happening?" he stumbled over his words, cradling the angel's body. "How did this happen?"

Cas's eyes opened a little, and Dean's heart soared for a split second. "Dean."

"How did this happen?' Dean pressed, cupping Cas' cheek.

"The weeping angels...got to me..." Cas struggled, "During the fall."

Dean shook his head. No. No. God, please no. That meant there was no way to save Cas.

"I can't lose you," Dean's voice cracked, and he started to cry, tears forming and overflowing over the rim of his tear duct.

"Dean, before I go..." Cas's voice was low and raspy, a slight deliriously gurlgy sound to it. "I want you to know...I love you. More than a million suns."

It was his last breath's words, and Dean stared, silently screaming as he watched the life go out of Cas. He barely heard the sound of footsteps and the TARDIS behind him, hardly felt his brother's reassuring hand on his shoulder. All he could feel was despair, loss, all those tragical feelings that he had felt before, but not necessarily ever this strong.

Castiel was dead. And he couldn't even give his lover a decent burial, he already heard sirens in the distance. He had to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to stand or do anything but kneel and silently mourn. He had forgotten how to blink, how to breathe, how to live.

"Dean, come with me," Dean heard Sam's voice and felt his brother help him up, and felt Clara's smaller but sturdy hands help him as well. He saw nothing but Cas's dead body, nothing except the blood and the pain and the grimy street on which he had to leave the man he loved.

Sam watched as Sherlock read a few books at the side of the TARDIS, Dean was sitting on the lone chair and Clara was by the controls looking lost. He knew Sherlock was calm, but he felt that he was the calmest person in the room. Sherlock was probably worrying about John and Mary. I've never met three people who love eachother so much, but...to each their own, I guess.

He went over to Clara and set a hand on her back. "Hey."

"Hey," Clara replied quietly, still looking down at the controls.

"You want to come back to the bunker with us? Stay awhile? Until the Doctor comes back?"

Clara smiled up at him and looked at the TARDIS. "I don't know. Maybe her and I'll go and travel the universe together, trying to find our doctor and running from monsters. The Impossible Girl and the TARDIS, travelling the universe." she sighed. "But I don't think I could do more than one trip without going insane."

Sam waited for a minute as she gathered her thoughts, but she looked up quickly and nodded at him. "If it's okay, I'll stay at the bunker."

"Of course it's okay."

"Clara, if you would, just pause at the bunker so I might grab John and Mary and the baby and you can take us home. I'm not willing to stay any longer, I'm going to keep my family safe." Sherlock more announced than asked, but Clara agreed nonetheless. She worked the TARDIS in the direction of the bunker, exchanging a sad glance with Sam.

It was exactly six months later when the Doctor showed up. Clara and Dean were gone on a mission-they had been going after monsters nonstop after Cas died and the Doctor hadn't come back after a week. Clara had been pulling out her hair, so Dean had taken her on a mission and she enjoyed it, so they'd basically been taking every single mission that popped up. Sam was usually left behind to study books and keep the bunker clean, and he had to say, he enjoyed those quiet times. It was very zen. Clara had helped him decorate the place more, so it really felt like home now.

So one day, while Sam was wiping down the large wooden table in the book foyer, he heard knocking on the door. Throwing the rag onto the table, and putting a hand on his gun, he slowly went upstairs and looked through the peekhole to find a disheveled older man, with curly silver hair and incredibly emotional eyes. Sam felt like this man was familiar though, so he opened the door slightly and stuck his face there. "Hello?"

"Sam!" the man exclaimed practically slamming into the door, sending Sam stumbling backward. The man came walking inside like he owned the place and started walking down the stairs. "So, where's Clara? Is she in the kitchen?"

Sam held up his gun at the strange man, furrowing his brows. This man was so familiar, but he couldnt place his finger on it. "Who are you?!" he demanded loudly, but the man kept on rambling about Clara and how awful the book organization on the shelves was.

"WHO ARE YOU?!" Sam finally just shouted, having gone down the stairs keeping the gun trailed on the older man. "How do you know Clara?"

"Well, Sam, you can put away the gun," the man sounded annoyed, "and I'm the-"

"Doctor!" a loud kerclunk sounded behind Sam and he turned to find Clara standing in the doorway, her shovel on the ground. She must've dropped it in shock, as her jaw was dropped as well.

"Clara!" The Doctor exclaimed excitedly, "I found you, good."

"You didn't find me, you came to the place you knew I was at. Thanks to the TARDIS and I's many many many MANY messages sent out to your screwdriver and psychic paper!" Clara started snarling with a low voice, something she did when she was incredibly enraged. Sam put away his gun and shrunk out of Clara's way. No way in hell he was getting in the middle of this.

"Clara, I'm so-"

"No. You abandoned me. Get your spaceship and get the hell out."

The Doctor looked like he'd just been struck by her, and Sam supposed he had just been, but with words. What was the timelord going to do?

"I got sent back in time by the weeping angels," the Doctor explained, but Clara held up her hand.

"And yet you're still here six fucking months late. Get out."

"I love you!"

"I lost my love for you the SECOND I realized you abandoned me!" Clara shouted and took a threatening step toward the man in front of her. "Now GET THE HELL OUT!"

The Doctor looked heartbroken, but he just nodded and walked down the hallway to the garage, where he probably thought the TARDIS was, and it was.

Dean was gone to a bar that evening, so it was only Sam and Clara eating dinner in the kitchen. Sam had heated up some of Dean's hamburgers (the hunter liked to make 50 at a time then freeze them until he was hungry.) and Clara whipped together a souffle. She was still horrible at making them, but it relaxed her, so Sam didn't complain about the waste of flour. The dog liked the burned food she made anyway.

They had gotten a dog, him and Clara, awhile back. It was a german shepherd/husky mix and it was about to be put down, but they'd saved her. Clara had named her Cassie, because the dog had gorgeous blue eyes, almost like Castiel's had been. Dean pretended to hate the dog, but Sam and Clara had found him cuddling with Cassie a few times and even took the dog for walks and sneakily gave her little treats during dinner.

"You were a bit harsh on the Doctor," Sam pointed out, taking a huge bite of his hamburger. Clara raised an eyebrow at his messiness.

"I was not-" she stopped short at Sam's own raised eyebrow, and sighed. "Fine, I was. But I had good reason."

"Because he didn't come back for 6 months?"

"No," Clara put down her burger and stifled a sigh. "I'm not over him. I'm not sure I ever will be, Sam, but he has to be over me."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't hold him back. He's too dependent on me. It's better that I push him away now, and he believes I live happily ever after, then I die on one of our romps and he goes on a rage across the universe or whatever," she sighed, picking up her burger again and taking a bite.

Sam nodded. Sometimes it's better to let the one you love go so they won't suffer.

**and the story is done :) I hope you've all enjoyed this story, and I know I'm certainly happy that it's finally done haha.**


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